


Marked

by intotheruins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Biting, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mark of Cain, Season 9, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-06 20:57:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8769055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intotheruins/pseuds/intotheruins
Summary: The Mark itched whenever Dean caught a glimpse of Gadreel. He'd scratch absently at it, wonder what it would be like to take out all the rage—both Mark-induced and the rest that was all his own—on a being that was almost impossible to kill.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [outoftheashes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/outoftheashes/gifts).



> Merry Christmas, Tori! <3

It had been ten days since Castiel brought Gadreel into the bunker. Ten days since the angel had sworn to help them defeat Metatron. Ten days of the angel lurking in shadows and keeping his head down, apologizing profusely to anyone who got too close.

_I'm sorry. Please, forgive me._

_I didn't understand. I thought I was saving Heaven._

_I wish I could return Kevin to you._

Castiel had forgiven him. Sam, it seemed, was on his way to doing so, though he was still wary of the angel. They both kept dropping not so subtle hints at Dean: _We've made our own mistakes. We've messed up just as badly—maybe worse. He's trying._

It all made fury writhe under Dean's skin like a living thing. The Mark itched whenever he caught a glimpse of Gadreel. He'd scratch absently at it, wonder what it would be like to take out all the rage—both Mark-induced and the rest that was all his own—on a being that was almost impossible to kill.

Logically, he knew Sam and Castiel were right. The problem was that logic no longer played a part in his actions.

Which was why on the eleventh day, while Sam and Castiel were doing some research in the library, Dean didn't think about what he was doing when he saw Gadreel slipping out of his room. He just grabbed the angel by the throat and pinned him to the wall.

Gadreel didn't even cry out. He just _went,_ grunting when his back hit the wall but otherwise not making a sound. He looked at Dean with huge, wet eyes and Dean got right in his face, baring his teeth like an animal.

He wanted to tear Gadreel apart. He wanted...

The anger writhed, so hot he could feel his cheeks flushing. The Mark burned. He was breathing hard and he'd barely moved.

Gadreel said, “It's okay,” and Dean snapped.

His intent may have been to rip out Gadreel's throat with his teeth. It may have been to slam his head against the wall. What happened instead was a mockery of a kiss, mouths crushed together so hard it ached. Dean's teeth sank into Gadreel's bottom lip until he tasted the coppery tang of blood. He lashed at the wound with his tongue, pressing hard to force it open, laughing low in his throat when he heard Gadreel let out a harsh whine.

The blood made the Mark itch and the heat beneath Dean's skin pool between his legs.

Lunging back, Dean punched Gadreel in the jaw. The angel's head snapped to the side. He caught himself with a hand against the wall, but Dean punched him a second time in the mouth and he went down on his knees.

A bruise was already forming on his jaw. There was a new split on his upper lip. Blood was trickling down his chin, but all Gadreel did was look up at Dean with wide eyes and...

Smile. Fucking smile, like he was forgiving Dean, like this was _okay._

“Get up!” Dean snarled.

Gadreel settled back against the wall. He didn't even flinch when Dean swung again, striking him on the cheek this time.

“Get. Up.” Dean grabbed Gadreel by the shirt front. The bruise was getting worse and the blood was still flowing—even locked out of heaven, he should have been able to heal himself. He was letting the wounds stay open.

Dean kissed him again, gentle for just a second.

Then he threw the angel to the floor and went down after him.

The Mark burned so hot that Dean's vision blurred. His fingers ached to wrap around the First Blade—he wrapped them around Gadreel's throat instead, and it was almost as good. He squeezed until Gadreel stopped gasping, until he went still, and by the time he revived his vessel Dean had him stripped.

“Dean,” Gadreel murmured, voice hoarse.

A hand stroked through Dean's hair. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Dean wanted to let it gentle him. But the Mark was searing now, he couldn't see at all, he needed—

For a moment, there was nothing in Dean's world but the release of his fury and slick, hot blood dripping down his fingers.

He came out of it like snapping awake from a nightmare. Gadreel was on his back, eyes closed and mouth open around a broken moan. Dean's nails had left jagged, bloody tears down the angel's torso. There were teeth marks in his thighs—in a few places Dean had broken skin. More bruises were scattered... fuck, everywhere, and yet the angel was hard, cock red and straining between his legs.

Dean sucked it down without a thought, didn't stop even when he gagged. He closed his teeth around Gadreel, bit down until he heard the angel scream and dragged himself back up like that, shivering with a horrid kind of pleasure every time he wrenched a sob from Gadreel's throat.

That hand was back in his hair, shaking. Stroking so goddamn gently.

Dean sucked hard around the head. He lashed at the slit with his tongue, groaning at the salty taste of precome and wondering if it would be better mixed with blood.

He bit down again—Gadreel bucked into his mouth and came, hand clenching into Dean's hair, scream catching behind clenched teeth.

It took Dean a moment to realize he'd come, too, just from rubbing against the floor.

He didn't release Gadreel right away. The Mark had gone dormant, the anger receding until Dean couldn't remember why he'd been angry in the first place. It left him shaking and strangely hollow. Guilt began to whisper to him, pointing out every mark on Gadreel's body. Dean laid his head against Gadreel's hip and suckled softly at the head of his cock, the only apology he could bring himself to make.

The angel just kept right on stroking Dean's hair.

“It's okay,” Gadreel murmured after a while.

Dean closed his eyes. Carefully, he let Gadreel slide from his mouth.

“It's fucking not okay,” Dean hissed. But he didn't move.

“It is.”

Gadreel sat up, body suddenly clear of every injury Dean had inflicted. Gently, he slid his hands beneath Dean's arms and hauled him upright. Dean let himself be guided to his room without protest, let the angel undress him and tuck him into bed like he was a fucking five year old.

“Did it help?” Gadreel asked.

Dean had to bury his face in the pillow before he could bring himself to mutter, “Yeah.”

“Then it's okay,” Gadreel repeated softly.

He shut off the light, and left Dean with one hand wrapped around the Mark.

It was already beginning to itch again.

“Fuck,” Dean whispered.

He closed his eyes, and tried not to remember the taste of Gadreel's blood.

END

 


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